All About the Writing

Six Sentence Sunday: Lord Midnight #5

I've decided to return to Lord Midnight for Six Sentence Sunday this week. In the last snippet, Gabriel shows up at Marisa's betrothal ball, which is a masquerade, wearing his highwayman garb as his "costume". He waltzes with her, even though it's dangerous for him to be there. Afterwards, he is reluctant to leave, especially when Marisa's betrothed appears by her side:

Marisa was visibly nervous by Gabriel's continued presence, and there was no need to prolong her agony.

He reached once more for her hand, depositing a quick kiss on her gloved fingers. "I must thank you for the rare pleasure of the waltz. You have diverted this highwayman from further thoughts of robbery." A devil provoked him to add, "Lest it is to steal you from this gentleman."

Her fingers dug into his hand.

I'm having a "Lord Midnight Madness Sale", to celebrate Lord Midnight being featured several places this week. It is a mere $1.99 right now, so if you haven't had a chance to get your copy, now's the time!

Thanks again for stopping by each week. I enjoy your comments, and I truly enjoy reading all of your posts each Sunday.

The Fun of Writing

I'm having so much fun with this new story, Lord Rakehell, about a Regency rake late to his own wedding, that I ran out of time to write a blog post! So here's one from last fall I hope you'll like.

Recently a tweet buddy mentioned she was working on her latest WIP, and hoped it didn't act up like it did the previous day. I suggested it be put in timeout, or made to stand in the corner, and added the #badmanuscript hashtag.

Another friend joined in, and for the next several minutes, we tweeted as if our manuscripts were horrible children, and we used all the famous phrases parents use to describe mischievous offspring.

It made us laugh, it sparked some great ideas, and it really kept the creativity going.

I got excited about how the words were dancing around, and it made me want to go work on my WIP.

All because it was FUN.

That's how writing should be. Too often, though, we focus on how hard writing can be. Don't get me wrong. It is hard work. That's what makes the effort worthwhile. And if it were easy, everybody would be doing it.

But sometimes we need the reminder that we got into this writing biz because we LIKED it. We got so caught up in our characters and their fun adventures that it didn't feel like work to us. In fact, it was a release from the workday travails. We were like giddy little kids making mud pies when we got to muck around with our manuscript.

Now we trudge around thinking what a mess that mud is making, and how we're going to have to spend all day cleaning things up. We've pretty much sucked out all the joy of writing. Is it any wonder our characters hide from us when we view our stories in this way?

So let's make mudpies today. Let's get excited about writing again, returning to those days when drafting our stories was the best form of enjoyment around. Starting today, let's have fun when we put those words on the page, and quit thinking of it as a chore to check off the To Do list.

After all, if we consider our work drudgery, how can a reader not feel that way too?

Lord Midnight Madness Sale

I've just reduced the price of Lord Midnight to $1.99. You can get it at this price at Amazon and Smashwords right now. It's taking a little longer getting the price changed at Kobo, Barnes & Noble, and Sony, but it should be showing up there in the near future.

Hope you enjoy! Now I'm back to work on Lord Wastrel, and some other projects that I think you'll like.

 

Six Sentence Sunday: Driving Miss Crazy #3

Here's another snippet from my WIP Driving Miss Crazy. In the first one, Katie and Slade meet when he vaults into her convertible and then kisses her like they're long-time lovers. In the second one, Katie agrees to take him to his car, but she gets angry when he confesses his car is two states away. Slade enjoys the physical manifestations of her anger a bit more than he probably should.

In this bit, Katie and Slade are each trying to win the argument of what happens next. Slade flashes the smile that gets him what he wants 99.9% of the time, but it doesn't seem to be working on a very stubborn Katie, who wants him out of her car:

"Well, sugar, I believe we are at an impasse."

"No, sugar," she said, with a fake grin that meant she had a different "sh" word in mind, one that most likely ended with "head". "It's my car, and I get to make the rules for the passengers."

"I can make this worth your while," he replied, clamping his hand on hers when she reached to unlatch his seat belt.

"How?"

"For starters, how does a million bucks sound?"

Thanks for stopping by and making Six Sentence Sunday so much fun each week. You really keep me motivated, and I appreciate that! 

Sneak Peek: Lord Wastrel

While I'm in the midst of edits for Back on Track, I hope you'll enjoy this peek at a scene from Lord Wastrel, a Regency historical that is part of The Curse of True Love series.

Hugh, a reformed rake, has recently learned he has an illegitimate daughter, and he's determined to provide her with the best possible upbringing, which includes finding a highly respectable wife. Instead, he falls for "Flighty Felicia", notorious for her failed elopements, and someone he's known his entire life. His feelings for her, though, are something very new: 

"Hugh, why will you not marry me?"

"Because it is a preposterous notion." 

"But why? Do you truly want to return to the marriage mart and commence auditioning debutantes again?"

At his slight groan, she pressed on. "I did not think so. And why are you so set against marrying me? Am I truly that horrid to you?"
 
Hugh drew back at her words. "Horrid? You are anything but. I can scarcely keep my thoughts away—" He spun on his heel and returned to the fireplace across the room, standing stiffly. "I am quite fond of you, and I am afraid that if we were to wed, it would destroy these warm feelings we have for each other."
 
Felicia burst out laughing. "How many times have you delivered that speech? It is atrocious."
 
"It is?"
 
"If you have any hope of it succeeding, you have to inject at least a small measure of warmth and sincerity. Here, like this." She straightened her shoulders, letting the corners of her mouth drop as if she had been stricken with sadness. "I am very, very fond of you. But I fear that if we were to wed—" She sniffed, dabbing at her eyes. "If we were to wed, it would utterly, positively destroy these tender feelings we have shared."
 
Hugh's jaw dropped. "You have missed your calling, Felicia. I have never seen such stunning theatrics in my life."
 
She bobbed a curtsey. "Thank you. Now you can see why I could not believe your words for a moment." She moved closer to him, suppressing a smile when he stepped away. Was he afraid of her? Surely not.
 
She stepped even closer, and this time she saw his lower lip tremble, though he seemed unaware of it. His eyes were focused on her mouth. Felicia realized at once he was not afraid of her. He was afraid of his unruly response to her.
 
She nearly crowed her triumph. For some reason he was trying to deny his feelings for her. But she was not about to let that happen. She took another step forward, and then one more. He could not move to either side.

"It appears you are trapped," she said.
 
"More than you know," he muttered.
 
Felicia moistened her lips and this time he did groan. She felt her cheeks pinken, with her rising excitement, as well as her feelings of power. She wanted Hugh, and she wanted to make him hers. She was bold and determined and she was going to make him surrender.
 
She leaned forward, closing her eyes just as her lips touched his—
 
Palm?
 
Her eyes flew open. She leaned back, staring at his upraised hand.
 
He was not cooperating with her seduction!

Six Sentence Sunday: Driving Miss Crazy #2

In last week's Six Sentence Sunday snippet from Driving Miss Crazy, Katie is on a stakeout when Slade, a hot guy she doesn't know, jumps into her convertible, and then acts as if they're lovers. In this scene, she agrees to drive Slade to his car--until she finds out it is two states away.

Here is Slade's take on the situation:

She had two bright spots of color on her cheeks, matching the polka dots on her halter dress, and her chest heaved with each angry breath, making it impossible to keep his eyes away from all that luscious rounded flesh.

"Look at me," she demanded.

"I am," he said, his voice a little too dreamy.

She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him until their noses were almost touching. He barked out a laugh, but then bit the inside of his lip to keep from smiling at how adorable and sexy she looked. He knew she considered herself fierce, and why should he let her think any differently?

I hope you enjoy this story. I plan to get back to it very soon. Thanks for stopping by each week, Sixies!

 

Discovering Your Characters

One thing I love about being a pantser is the process of discovering who my characters are.

When I start a story, it's usually from a random scene that has popped into my head. It's almost always dialogue, which makes me feel like I'm eavesdropping on a conversation between two people who just eased into view. I sit there, quietly, and try to look like I'm minding my own business, when I'm actually minding THEIRS.

Then I go through the usual first impression stuff we all go through when we meet new people. We notice what they look like, and despite our best intentions, we make judgments based on our previous experiences. Since these are heroes and heroines, there isn't a lot to criticize at this point.

But, just as with people we encounter in real life, there's a lot we don't know about characters when we start a story. If we did know everything, the happily-ever-after would be at the beginning of the book, not the end.

I think it's fun to learn new details about the hero and heroine as I move through each chapter. When I'm writing, I'm constantly picking up on the clues they toss my direction, usually via an offhand phrase or an unexpected response to another character's words or actions.

This is when I stop to plot and ponder and decipher exactly what this information reveals about the character. I'm in awe as I learn what is important to them, and what they are going to fight for, and what they are willing to sacrifice.

The tricky part is when a character won't give up their secrets. Even worse is when they do give you juicy information and you're not sure how to interpret it, or how to weave it into the story. I won't even mention how heartbreaking it can be when they drop a bombshell in your lap, requiring you to dismantle chapters you lovingly polished before that shocking moment.

Still, I'm not sure I could write a story where I knew everything about the character ahead of time. I enjoy that slow unfolding of character traits, that leisurely method of learning what makes a particular person tick. It's a process that involves trust, and a huge amount of it. You can only expose your inner self when you believe no one will try to harm you with the information you're divulging.

It makes me happy when my characters demonstrate their willingness to put their hearts in my hands, trusting that I'll take care of their hopes and fears. It's a little frightening at the same time. But hopefully by the time they give me that responsibility, I'm so in love with them, there's no way I can say no.

Six Sentence Sunday: Driving Miss Crazy

Here's a snippet from another WIP, a contemporary romantic comedy called Driving Miss Crazy. It's definitely a work-in-progress/first draft, so this is still a little rough.

The hero, Slade, and the heroine, Katie, are both trying to retrieve the same valuable object, only they don't know they're both after the same thing. Katie is doing a little stakeout, trying to avoid getting a parking ticket, so her eyes are on the traffic cop checking cars behind her. Slade is on the run from some bad guys and can't get to his car. He's a very resourceful guy.

"Hey, sugar, sorry I'm late."

Katie's eyes snapped away from the rearview mirror to see an unnecessarily handsome man tossing a duffle bag into the backseat of her convertible, and then vaulting into the passenger seat as if he were in an action movie.

And as if he expected her to know who he was.

Before Katie could ask what the hell he was talking about, he leaned towards her, his lips tilted up with pure mischief. "Let me make it up to you, okay?"

In the next instant, his sexy mouth was on hers, and she couldn't remember how to protest.

My apologies for not getting to everyone's Six Sentence Sunday snippets last week. It's always the highlight of my writing week, but the day job wore me out more than usual, so I didn't get to read all the great excerpts. I don't plan for that to happen this week!

One last thing--I received a wonderful review of LORD MIDNIGHT this week, from Liz at Fictional Candy. If you'd like to read it, I've posted the link here.

Have a great Sunday!

So Long, Summer

I hate to see summer leave. It's one of my favorite seasons, filled with freedom, and leisure, and all kinds of delights I wait all year to enjoy.

So I decided to celebrate the end of summer by making a peach cobbler, a treat I always associate with this time of year. I had some fresh peaches I'd bought at a favorite farm stand, and it seemed like a good idea to use them before they morphed into fruit leather. (My fridge is some kind of vampire, sucking out the essence of produce behind closed doors. You should see what it did to some oranges recently. They ended up looking like Yoda. Well, without the big ears. And if Yoda had used an orange-ish spray tan for a week straight.)

But I digress.

Cooking is not a simple thing for me. I may be a pantser when I write, but I don't wing it when it comes to food. It doesn't make sense to experiment with stuff that I plan to eat. There's not really an effective delete key with food either.

Which may be why I love cookbooks. Someone else has already done all the experimentation and come up with the final list of ingredients, in the right measured amounts, and then provided a roadmap that can be followed to a culinary HEA.

After a little online searching, I finally found a peach cobbler recipe that closely matched the ingredients I had on hand. I rejected one candidate because I wasn't about to make a trip to the store for self-rising flour. If I made it to the store, I could just buy ice cream and let the fridge do its dehydration thing on the peaches, and we'd both be sated.

Still, there was a little glitch. I didn't have 4 cups of peaches. I had 2. So I checked to see if I could easily cut the recipe in half, meaning I wouldn't have to do anything fancy with fractions. Whew. Yes, I could cut it in half, without scrambling my brain over a half of a half teaspoon.

Crisis averted.

Another potential issue was when I belatedly realized the peaches were supposed to be mixed in the same pan as the melted butter. The wording of that section of the recipe could use a revision/edit, for clarification purposes, which just goes to show that ALL writing can be improved.

While the oven did its part, I worked on the WIP, feeling productive and virtuous, knowing there was going to be a reward for all my efforts.

At last it was time to sample my culinary masterpiece, and I gobbled it up quickly, with only a smidge left over for today. (It was half a cobbler, if you remember.) It was delicious, evoking memories of summers past, while staving off dread of winters-to-come.

The funny thing is today is dark and dreary and cool and rainy -- as if Mother Nature wanted to reinforce in my mind that summer has been sent packing, thanks to my culinary endeavors, and its evil cousin winter will be swooping down to torment us before we're ready.

But before that happens, I'll have autumn, another one of my favorite seasons, as well as a wonderful array of apples to utilize in the kitchen.

You can bet I'll be rhapsodizing about my favorite apple cake pretty soon.

Unless it provokes winter into showing up early.

Six Sentence Sunday: Bad Sex Karma #8

Welcome to another Six Sentence Sunday!

After getting dumped by her ex-boyfriend, Delia has moved on, and now she's reluctantly agreed to go on a date set up by her friends Brooke and Carly. They think it's a great idea, but Delia and her internal anxieties, the What Ifs, aren't so sure.

The What Ifs had been looking forward to ruining the evening, but I'd bribed them with the promise of a disaster movie marathon if they stayed home. To be honest, I was a little envious, since they could put their sweats on, grab a few pounds of chocolate, and hop into bed with a sexy book.

Now I was seriously thinking of calling in sick.

"Brooke, why did I tell you I’d go on this date?"

"Because it’ll be good for you," she answered.

"I thought you were talking about why I should make a mammogram appointment." 

Thanks for stopping by today. I hope everyone is having a great Labor Day weekend. I'm in denial about it marking the end of summer, though. Unless we can have another summer right after this one. . .